


Just Another Tale of Pirates and Princesses

by profoundlyfadedprincess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profoundlyfadedprincess/pseuds/profoundlyfadedprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After thirty years, Emma of Misthaven is being pressured into marriage when she is kidnapped by Black Beard in the depths of the Enchanted Forest. The resulting rescue by Captain Hook takes her on an adventure that threatens to unravel everything she knows about her life as she gets caught up in his mission to end a black curse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just Another Princess in Another Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> This is the rewrite of 'In Any Other World'. I was drastically unhappy with my work on this and started reworking it.

Twittering bluebirds fill the air outside Princess Emma’s room. After last night’s ball she is too tired to be thinking about getting up at her usual hour. But Emma knew from how the sun lies across the floor that her maid will be knocking soon. The dancing had gone on into the early hours as Snow White continued her mission to find her only daughter a husband. Eligible Princes, Dukes and Lords from the realms line up to take their chance to dance with her but while she entertained them long into the night no proposal was agreed. Snow White would not be pleased. 

Emma lay looking at the ceiling, a fresco depicting the rescue of Briar Rose and a story of True Love, while she waited for the inevitable knock at the door. A finger rubbed the golden band on the finger normally reserved for wedding rings. The dream of her own True Love was falling though her fingers like sand. 

The maid eventually knocked after Emma had slipped into a light sleep. Her mother had decreed a late breakfast but Emma had good reason to suspect an ulterior motive. Emma donned one of her lighter dresses, white and lavender with large billowing sleeves, with her waist length hair loose as it was one of her mother favoured looks for her. 

Guards opened the doors for her, bowing as she passed them into a long dining room. Emma curtsied to her mother before taking a seat held out by a footman at the other end of the table. She studied the pale face of her mother. Snow White’s lips were pressed in thin line as she studied her thirty-year-old daughter. Emma looked away from her mother’s disapproving glare to fill her plate with the fare on offer. 

‘I will no longer tolerate your hesitation to marry, Emma,’ Snow White said as Emma nibbled on a piece of buttered bread. ‘You are well beyond an age to be wed.’

Emma glanced up from her chewing. The long waging battle between them has been going on for years pushing more distance between mother and daughter. ‘But they are all frightful bores, Mama, interested only in our riches and not me.’

‘I spoke with them last night, many were charming and endearing, Emma,’ she replied with a tone of exasperation. 

‘Only because by winning my hand they gain your wealth, Mama,’ Emma pointed it out as she took a handful of berries. ‘I want to marry for love, like you and Papa did.’

Snow leant back in the high backed cushioned chair, her fingers tapping against the carved wooden arms, her expression emanating cold displeasure. ‘And I have tried to give you that, Emma. But no one is ever good enough.’

‘No Prince who walked the court of your father was good enough for you,’ Emma pointed out, alluding to her father’s actual heritage over that given to him by a greedy king and conniving elf. 

Snow White got to her feet and planted her hands on the table. ‘If you do not pick for yourself, then I will pick for you,’ she declared before exiting the room through the doors that would take her to her private quarters. 

Emma sat, running her hands through her golden tresses until a lock of hair caught in the blue diamond set in the ring she wore. She untangled her hair from it and looked down at the ornament on her hand. She felt a pang of sadness. She wondered if her mother would be so hard if her father were still here with them. When she had been young, Snow White often spoke of the fearless Prince James, but as she grew, as the years since his death grew, Snow spoke of him less and less. 

No longer hungry, the Princess got to her feet, exiting the room through the door she had arrived by. 

\--//--

As she got older, Emma of Misthaven rooms in the palace grew from a single nursery to occupying the entire West Tower. She called it The Ivory Tower, and much to her mother’s chagrin, the name stuck. After the conversation with her mother, Emma shut herself away, bolting the door closed so she could not be disturbed. She treated to the highest room where a balcony overlooked the wide expansive sea. 

From here, the sounds of the Palace were lost and she was able to stand in peace. She kept her eyes on the horizon, the subtle shift in colour from where sky kissed the sea, felt calming. Beyond it were distant Realms that she could only dream of seeing. There were towns across the bay she could only dream of seeing. Emma sighed, leaning into breeze coming from the sea, the salty air catching the soft locks of her hair and the tips of her sleeves. Her eyes skimmed along the horizon to the forest covered hills. 

She remained in solitude until the sun was close to touching the horizon. A distant bell alerted Emma to the end of the working day thus Supper would be served. While she had not taken any news all day, she was in no doubt as to what her mother had spent her day doing; selling her to the highest bidder for the good of the Kingdom. 

‘You need a husband,’ Snow White told her daughter over dinner as the younger woman sipped wine. ‘I will not be for this world much longer.’

The Queen’s appearance of that of a much younger woman belied her age by a great degree. There was much discussion as to how she had maintained her youthful appearance. Emma swore it was a potion, but then she would glimpse her mother looking at herself in the mirror, pressing her cheek with a confused expression in her hazel eyes. 

Emma stabbed unenthusiastically at the meat on her plate. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Spend time with them, see who suits you best,’ replied Snow White. ‘Please, Emma, for me.’ 

While Emma had no desire to submit to her mother’s wishes, she could not bear to see the look of sadness in her eyes. She rose before dawn, just as the first light of day began peeking over hills in the east. She wasn’t one for omens but the orangey-red light made it seems as if the sky was on fire, Emma leant on the railings gazing as purple clouds formed. Going out for a ride suddenly didn’t seem like a good idea. 

She had arranged to go riding with Prince Apollo after the conversation with her mother. After leaving her, Emma had gone for a walk in the gardens and found the young man with his nose in a book. His face had lit up from the attention. 

Now he was astride a horse, he seemed impossibly young but Snow had commended her choice calling him an intelligent thoughtful young man. Emma cocked her head to the side as she took in the high cheek bones of the southern Royals with his deep hazel eyes and matching hair. She sighed as her horse was brought from the stables. The chestnut mare, Bo, tossed her head, mane whipping the page who led her to Emma. She walked to the animal, taking the reins then stroked the beasts nose, smiling when the animal snickered. 

‘She’s a feisty one,’ Apollo commented as Emma moved to the side of the horse so she could mount it. ‘Almost wild.’

Emma mounted pulling her cloak over so it draped over the hind quarters, then adjusted her hair so it was over her shoulders. Apollo smiled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

‘Are you ready my lady?’ 

Emma nodded, urging her horse to move. 

\--//--

Apollo had insisted they travel without a retinue. Snow rarely allowed her daughter to travel without at least a small honour guard, but the young prince promised he could protect her. They walked at a snail’s pace with Bo flicking her head in frustration. Emma rarely took Bo out when she couldn’t truly exercise her. At the thought, she smiled, and glanced at her companion. Thus far the journey had been pleasant, but not enthralling. It was difficult to be excited about someone upon learning she was just the most recent Princess in a long line his father sent him to meet. It was normal of course, but it just put her a step away from what she wanted. 

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it does have the benefit travelling to distant lands.’

Emma glanced at him. ‘How about a race?’ she asked. ‘Bo is feeling feisty.’

Apollo looked at his horse. Emma had been surprised to note that the animal was a gelding when most men she knew proudly strutted upon a stallion. 

‘Come, it will only be until to the fallen oak,’ she said, adjusting in the saddle so she could race. ‘It’s just over that rise.’

The Prince smiled. ‘Of course, my Lady,’ he said. 

The journey took a little longer than she implied. Bo galloped along the smooth road kicking up dust as she went. Emma chuckled as she stood in the stirrups and urged Bo to move faster. This freedom would not last long. Once they reached the fallen oak, Apollo would be with her and their journey back to the palace would begin. Still, exhilaration thrummed through her body as the powerful creature beneath her got faster and faster. Emma glanced behind her but her Prince was nowhere to be seen. She urged Bo on.

As she reached the fallen oak, she pulled Bo to a halt. It took her a few strides before she walked again and the mare shakes her head letting her mane fly. Emma smiled as the thick strands hit her face. 

‘Hey, Bo,’ she cooed, pulling on the reins. ‘Hey.’

She jumped off the mare. With her feet on the ground, she pulled Bo’s face around to stroke her nose, cooing softly as she glanced along the path back to the fallen oak. It was out of sight, but Bo jumped over the fallen tree without Emma’s prompting. 

Bo panted beneath her, so Emma dismounted. She pulled Bo by her reins in the direction of the stream running parallel to the oak. Her legs were sore from the exercise, protesting as she climbed the small ditch up to the stream. The horse dipped her head to the stream while Emma looked back in the direction they had come looking for any sign of Apollo. He couldn’t be that far behind, could he?

Emma shook her head in exasperation. She gathered the skirts of her riding dress as she trod over the slightly mudded ground back to the road. They were actually quiet deep in the forest, with all the natural light filtered through the trees, and there was not much to see beyond hundreds of trunks towering above her. There was no way to see the castle from here, but it was like she’d get lost. Even she had travelled this road before. 

She placed a gloved hand against a mossy trunk to steady herself on the slippery earth. The sound of hooves, several horses worth, echoed from the direction she had been travelling towards. She stepped back so she was concealed. They came to a halt not far from where she had left the road. They weren’t the most savoury looking crowd either. Emma crouched to make herself even smaller as their apparent leader dismounted his horse. 

Lean but big in the muscled sense, wearing a red coat held together with an ornate brass buckles, he looks around with his hand resting on a hilt. She’s seen wanted posters of this man adorning the port walls near the castle. They call him Black Beard. Not the original of course. Several someone else’s have picked up the moniker in the last thirty years. Like all pirates, they keep their legends alive, the fear alive, by clinging to the names of frightful captains; Long John Silver, Captain Hook and Calico Jack to name a few.

Emma turned as quietly as she could, once again lifting her skirts so the fabric didn’t rustle the leaves and twigs. But her movement has caught their attention.

‘What do we have here?’ Black Beard crowed as Emma made a dash for the river. Back to Bo.

She ran as fast as her aching legs would carry her, but at the water’s edge, Bo was nowhere to be seen. Hoof prints indicated she had gone north. Emma sighed spinning in the direction the marauding pirates now came from. She looked on the ground for some sort of weapon. Although she had a dagger stashed in her boot, she didn’t want to resort to using that until there was no choice. She settled for a long, relatively heavy looking branch. 

Her Royal Highness might not be able to stop them from taking her, but she wouldn’t make it easy.


	2. Just Another Kidnap and Rescue

While her capture was inevitable, one pirate now glared at her over a broken and bloodied nose. Emma smirked at him with a grim sort of pleasure. Her hand might well hurt but not as much as his nose would for another few weeks. In retaliation, when they caught her, the rope bonds were tied tightly to her wrists. Black Beard, who’s hair was more chestnut than black, held a curved cutlass to her throat. 

‘You’re lucky we’re not to harm you Princess,’ he said, his face inches from her, rancid breath washing over. ‘Bring her along.’

Emma recoiled from the captain as one of the other pirates grabbed her bonds. Although the tug hurt, she didn’t give them the satisfaction of expressing pain despite it taking a lot of her willpower not to complain about the hot burns caused by the coarse rope. So far as she could tell, they planned to take her to Mournstead. The town was considered a bit of a No Man’s Land. Border disputes between Snow White and King George of the Eastern Realm had resulted in the quaint port declaring autonomy. Now it was a favoured harbour of pirates and other less reputable traders. 

She had once asked her mother about it. However, the Queen had forbidden conversation about it. Like her new rival in the Eastern Realm, the nephew of the now dead George and thus Emma’s cousin in some degree, they had both attempted to reclaim the land with disastrous endings. The pirates were not keen to give away their free port. The inhabitants of Mournstead expressed the sentiment by firing a bombardment of cannons into the castle across the bay. Into the Ivory Tower.

Emma looked at her home, her Ivory Tower twinkling in the sunlight. She sighed. The words ‘be careful what you wish for’ came to mind. Rough hands pressed down on her shoulders as she was marched through the main street. Men and women alike moved out of the way of Black Beard. Many considered him to be the most cut throat of all to hoist a sail although all his moniker baring peers would likely bestow that title on themselves. Pirates had a sense of pride when it came to the number of kills they had committed. Emma walked with her head held high, aware of the whispers that followed this little press gang correctly named her as Emma of Misthaven. 

Black Beard revelled in his victory until they reached the port. Queen Anne’s Revenge was an impressive ship, once in the service of the Northern Realms, but she was dwarfed by another ship bobbing lazily in the calm harbour waters. Black Beard paused, as did his men, as they glanced around. It didn’t take a genius to realise they were looking for the Captain of the impressive boat. 

‘He was warned to stay away,’ growled Black Beard to his bosun. 

The shaved, heavy set man who she had punched in the face nodded grimly. ‘Since when have you known Hook to take heed of any warning laid down?’

‘Then we will just have to put him in his...’ he trailed off as the man they were clearly speaking about appeared at the gangplank of his ship. 

‘Times must be hard, Edward, if you’re reduced to capturing Princesses for the Evil Queen,’ Hook declared as he walked down the gangplank to the jetty. ‘Whereas I, just last week, procured three chests of pure gold from the Golden Kingdom itself.’

Compared to the men surrounding her, and Black Beard himself, Hook was remarkably well groomed for a pirate. In fact, he was classically handsome. He strutted with confidence stepping on to the gangplank with his eyes, blue, cold and angry, on Black Beard. For all his bravado, her captor recoiled, his eyes on the cruel looking hook which glinted dangerously at the end of his left arm. 

Hook turned his attention to Emma, his disdainful expression softened a little as he looked her over. The Pirate Captain caressed the tip of his hook with his ring clad fingers as his dark gaze focused on Black Beard again. ‘Certainly pays more than Princesses.’

Black Beard turned to look at his prisoner. Emma gave him a hard stare, finding it difficult to disagree with Hook on the fact this crew would make more money by pilfering their weasely guts out over kidnapping her for the Evil Queen. At this, realisation set in… The Evil Queen had sent these men for her. However, bound as she was, surrounded by men and women who had practically gone down on one knee for her captors, meant she had no chance of escape. 

The pirate turned to look at his rival, smirked with a crooked grin then at his crew. ‘Let’s make sure our guest is comfortable in the brig.’ 

\--//--

Five days passed with Emma suffering from various degrees of sea sickness when a shout on deck caught her attention. After spending days mulling over the implication of being delivered to the Evil Queen, she expected the shout to be ‘Land Ahoy’. Instead it was an order to ready the cannon’s. A yell. He was sailing under a Crimson Flag. An order for no quarter to be given should they be boarded the ship chasing them. While Emma knew little of pirate terminology, she knew enough to know this would be a bloody battle.

Queen Anne’s Revenge sped up as it attempted to outrun its pursuer, crashing into the waves. The force threw Emma into the bars of her cell. She clung to the roughly wrought bars to prevent herself from being flung to the floor. As the onslaught continued. 

‘Drop the kedge,’ came a holler from above. 

Moments later Emma heard a splash. Seconds later the boat swung around abruptly. Emma squealed. Partly from the part of trying to hold on. Partly from the surprise caused by the turn. The cannon fire rattled the ship. This time, Emma let go, and was thrown to the grubby floor. Her wrist cracked unattractively causing a tear to spring from her eye. Emma lay on the floor as the order to refill the cannon’s was given from the stern. This time she covered her ears as the shots were fired. 

However, the hard work of the crew didn’t prevent the ship pulling alongside. The room darkened as the light was blotted out. 

All she could do was wait as the sound of metal slicing through the air accompanied by screams, the occasional pistol shot and clunk of a body falling into the sea played out above her. For the first time in days, she was glad to be locked away but the gods only knew what the invading force would do with her. Eventually, it seemed like a long time, but Emma couldn’t be sure, victory was declared on the decks of Queen Anne’s Revenge amongst the smell of smouldering wood. 

Remembering she is a Princess, she pushed herself to her feet, careful not to jar her now injured wrist. She cradles it as the deck hatch opens. Drawing herself to her full height, she is ready to face whoever won this battle. Dark leather boots, matching trousers with a long coat swishing just below knee. 

In hushed whispers, the jailer who provided her meals had told her of Hook. It wasn’t the first time she had heard stories of him. Legends surrounding Captain Hook stretch back nearly two hundred years. He was known to sooner strike a man than lend out mercy. Despite the pain it caused, she dropped her hand so he won’t see her weakness. Her other hand curled around the bars. 

‘Emma of Misthaven.’

The soft timbre of his voice surprised her after this violent display of power. She meets his eyes, while bloodlust simmers there, rather surprisingly there is also a warmth rising from the depths. Emma glowers at him fiercely. She didn’t give into fear in front of Black Beard. She wasn’t going to do it now. 

‘Let me out,’ she demanded. 

Hook smirked, a lazy expression that only served to accentuate his good looks. He sauntered over holding up the thick key. ‘Only if you behave yourself, Princess.’

Despite the slight leer in his voice, he unlocks the door, holds it open and offers his arm to her. She stares at him before lifting her skirts to climb the stairs to the deck. She hasn’t seen the sky for a whole week, but she emerges on a deck to find carnage. Black Beard’s crew had fought with all their might but it seemed they were sorely out matched. Hook followed her up the stairs, rubbing the stubble on his chin and looking surprisingly apologetic. She frowned. 

‘Get me off this boat,’ she said faintly, trying not to look at the bloodstained deck covered in fallen bodies.

Hook nodded, beckoning her to the edge of the deck where his own ship bobbed lazily beside the wrecked remains of Queen Anne’s Revenge. 

‘As you wish,’ he replied looking to his own ship. ‘Mr Nolan, a gangplank for the lady, if you will.’


	3. Just Another Curse of Some Sort

Trussed up in coarse rope, stripped of his coat and gagged, Black Beard looked nothing more than a man. Although he remained defiant with his glare fixed on Captain Hook. Emma gazed down at him after jumping of the gangplank with a swift nod at the deckhand who had provided it at Hook’s request. A week in his brig had given her time to think of his intentions. The intention Hook had mocked him for. She turned to look at the Captain as he spoke with Mr Nolan. 

However, her eyes were fixed on the cutlass hanging from Hook’s waist. It swayed as he spoke, the conversation with his deckhand getting heated. Then it occurred to her very few simple shipmates would speak to their captain like that. She turned back to Black Beard. 

‘I want to know why he did it.’

Her voice rang out as she drew up to her full height. Lesson’s from her mother; stand tall, let everyone know you are a Princess, but be graceful. She had missed the graceful in the presence of pirates. 

‘I already told you, love,’ replied Hook. ‘Kidnap on the orders of the Evil Queen.’

Emma spun to look at him, and Mr Nolan who has a resigned expression on his face. ‘But no one has seen her for thirty years. Not since she…’

‘Killed your father,’ finished Hook with just a flick of the eye to Mr Nolan. ‘But now she’s back and…’

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Emma darted forward, grabbing Hook’s cutlass and pulling it free. He attempted to stop her with his hook. But the two weapons scrapped together, cutting the air with a zing. Then he felt the tip of his blade against his neck. She tried to prevent herself from shaking, planting her feet down as Mr Nolan stepped forward. His blue eyes fixed on her with one hand up, the other on Hook’s shoulder.

‘What’s going on?’ called a boy’s voice on the deck. 

Hook held up his hand to silence him as Emma looked at the young lad with a mop of brown hair look from Hook to her then back again. 

‘It’s alright, lad,’ Hook said to the boy. 

As Emma’s attention remained on Henry, Hook stepped forward. He grabbed the blade near the hilt and pulled it out of Emma’s hand. She yelled in surprise. Hook glowered at her as he sheathed his sword. 

‘Well you’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that,’ he said, rubbing the part of his neck where the blade had touched before looking at Black Beard. ‘Toss him in the brig. You, my Lady,’ he said meeting her eyes again, ‘should get some rest below deck while we work out just want to do with you.’

\--//--

In the sanctuary of his quarters, Killian Jones paced the length of the room rubbing the part of his neck where the Princess had rested her sword. In a chair across the room, David watched him while spinning a tumbler of rum in his hand. Thankfully, he didn’t speak while Killian continued his pacing. He knew Emma wouldn’t be Emma but being faced with her was a lot harder than he anticipated. 

‘Well, what next?’ he eventually asked his father-in-law. 

David raised his eyebrow at him. ‘Emma’ll be safe enough for now, which means we have time to find a way to end this,’ he said draining the glass. ‘Did that have to be so bloody?’

David’s head inclines in the direction they just sailed from where the burning remains of Queen Anne’s Revenge bob in the current as Killian takes a swig directly from the bottle. He raised an eyebrow at David. Giving chase to Black Beard and rescuing Emma was likely to end in blood shed. He had warned the former Prince of the likely outcome. Killian had obeyed by his owns laws when it comes to flying the Crimson Flag. Rules well known on the seas of this Realm. The ball was entirely in the court of Black Beard. He had led his men to blood shed against Killian’s crew. 

‘We’re pirates remember, Mr Nolan,’ he reminded David, crossing his arms. ‘Or at least they think we’re pirates. We have to act the part if we’re to succeed.’ 

‘Sounds like your heart isn’t in it anymore,’ David observes wryly as he grabs the rum bottle, wiping the top before pouring some into the glass. 

Killian doesn’t even give him an answer. The joy of this life has long since left him, as David well knew, to be replaced by love. The only thing his heart is in is breaking the curse on Emma and being home. Wherever home will end up after this little sojourn. The door to the cabin opened to reveal the third member of their displaced crew. Henry closed the door waiting until he was in the room away from prying ears. 

‘Mom’s settled,’ he said, ‘but I don’t envy the guy you sent to show her to her cabin. I liked her more when she wasn’t a princess.’

‘She’s always been a princess,’ David pointed out, affronted by his grandson’s remark but Killian chuckled, understanding precisely what Henry meant. 

Killian rubbed his neck again. ‘That said, princesses aren’t usually adept at unarming pirates and using their cutlasses against them,’ he said thoughtfully. 

‘Other princesses don’t have thirty years of other memories trying to get to the surface,’ replied David. ‘I take it you taught her that little trick.’

Killian shrugged. ‘How many times have we been trapped in realms outside of Storybrooke?’ he reminded David, holding up his hand to display five fingers. ‘I thought it would be prudent to teach her a few tricks should her magic fail her. Like now. Judging by the state of one of her captors… well, I’m not going to apologise.’

‘So it’s good then,’ said Henry, ‘she’s kind of remembering things.’

‘Like Regina said lad, us three taking the frankly fool hardy decision to sail into the curse disrupted it,’ he said.

\--//--

Killian was long used to sailing his ship alone. With the crew below deck for their supper and daily ration of rum, he had a moment to ponder the situation without David’s concerned look following him. At the wheel of the Jolly Roger was the closest thing to home he would achieve here. As he pondered the horizon, sun setting in a haze of deep red, the hatch to the cabin where Emma would be residing for the time being. She’s changed out of the dirty riding robes into some of the clothing recovered when they robbed the ship from the Golden Realm. 

He watched her walk to the bow, hands reaching out to steady herself against the rise and fall as they cut through the waves. She remained still, the wind whipping her hair and dress as the skimmed across the water. Behind him the hatch to his quarters opened. Henry emerged on deck. As expected the young lad had taken to their mission with ease. His Authorial abilities had been useful in revealing the stories implanted into the minds of Snow and Emma. 

‘Alright lad?’ he asked, glancing down to see if he was holding any pages. 

‘I just wanted to see her,’ Henry replied looking down at his mother. 

Killian placed his hand on Henry’s shoulder, noting how much taller he had grown in the two months spent trapped in this curse. ‘We’ll get her back.’

The original plan had been simple enough; True Love’s Kiss. Until David pointed out if Emma or Snow didn’t remember who they were, then it wouldn’t work. Potions to return their memories were also out of the question given the risk it could backfire to leave them believing this life was real. The counterpart Regina had created in her bid to remove her darkness had learnt a lot when came to the resourcefulness of those who would do anything for the Savour. 

A cough interrupted his thoughts, soft and feminine, he looked over to where Princess Emma stood at the top of the steps to the bridge. The two men exchange a look with each other before looking back at Emma. 

‘Princess,’ Killian acknowledges, with an inclination of his head to her. ‘Cabin to your liking?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, slightly taken aback by his question. ‘Better than my last quarters.’

Of course, he had been able to read the look in her eyes. It’s been a long time since Emma, his Emma, has looked at him like this. In fact, it’s not entirely unlike the first time they met; her leaning across the table so they’re faces were inches apart as she told him she would know if he was lying. He wondered if this cursed incarnation of his beloved retain the same ability. 

‘I want to know what you plan to do with me,’ she said, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘You were well aware of who I was and the bounty on my head.’ She waited until he nodded. 

Truth be told he had heard of the bounty on her head in Jarren’s Outreach three days earlier. He’d responded by sailing with all haste to Mournstead to prevent anyone getting to her first. Black Beard had only reached the port ahead of him on the virtue of being far closer. Not giving chase immediately, well that had been an entirely different story… 

‘So what are your intentions?’ she asks. 

He ponders the question because between them, he, David and Henry have yet to come up with a plan. His fingers tap the wheel of his boat thoughtfully before he wordlessly asked Henry to take the helm. His gaze asking his young step son to trust him.

‘I figure your mother will be demanding your return soon,’ he said, cocking his head to the side ‘and likely to pay more than the Evil Queen ever would.’

Emma’s jade eyes flared for a second. ‘What if I had another proposition for you?’

Killian raised an eyebrow. ‘You do, do you?’ 

‘The stories tell many things of you, Captain Hook. That you are a man of in need of vengeance against the Dark One,’ she begins slowly, ‘so I am hoping you understand me. The memory of the Evil Queen has plagued my Kingdom since my mother banished her to the Black Mountains. If you present me as my hostage, then I may be able to get close enough to end her.’

\--//--

The conversation is relayed back to David once the night watch took their places. Henry, exhausted from the travelling, is already asleep on the bunk. They’re voices are low as they speak of what will happen next. They still don’t have a plan. Princess Emma’s idea is close to foolhardy. She isn’t their Emma Swan, Saviour and powerful sorceress, but a graceful if feisty princess. In part it does suit them ultimate goal of getting close enough to the Evil Queen to find a way to end all this. 

The night wares on with little progress made between the two men. But a flicker of hope had started resting in Killian’s belly with regards to Emma, something he has not yet told David. He clocked it as they had spoken on the bridge, glinting in the pale reddish sky resting comfortably on the finger he had slipped it less than a month before this curse. The vows he made as he placed it there echoed in his head. 

As he thinks, the creaking of the boat intensifies. With the sails up, they should be doing little more than bobbing with the current. Killian raised his head as a tell-tale sound of wind squealing through the gun holes and across the deck. The night had been a clear velvet punctuated with constellations long ingrained in his mind.

It’s second nature to him, pushing up from his chair, abandoning his drink to climb the ladder to the deck. The sailor at the helm, a lad who had run from the Navy, is struggling to hold the ship steady. The first smattering of rain plasters across Killian’s face as David joins him. For his pocket, Killian produces his telescope, but it doesn’t provide him with any useful information as a flash of lightening flares across the sky with an almighty crash of thunder. 

‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered moving to take the wheel. ‘Sound the bell, Mr Nolan, all men to their stations.’


	4. Just Another Storm at Sea

A clap of thunder woke Princess Emma from her slumber. Not that it was restful slumber in the enclosed hammock bed which swayed with the waves. Getting out of it was no mean feat either. Indeed, she was grateful there was no one in sight to watch her tumble to the floor. She picked herself up, trying to find her sea legs as the ship was tossed from wave to wave but she invariably stumbled, careening for the bookcase ahead of her. Another toss, and this time she latched onto the ladder to the deck as water poured through the hatch 

Above deck she could hear the crew battling the storm. Light streaked across the light, accompanied by an almighty crash of thunder. Emma clamoured up the ladder and pushed the hatch open. The men worked under Hook’s direction as a well-oiled team as they hoisted the sails to prevent the ship being tossed around too much. 

‘Stay below deck, Princess,’ Hook yelled above the howl of the wind. 

‘No,’ she yelled back, finding her balance. ‘I keep being tossed about. I’m going to end up injured.’

She stared at the Captain, hand twisted around some of the rigging, the rough fibres grated against her skin as more sea spray was thrown up the side. He stared back at her, this was clearly the last thing he needed in the midest of a storm. She noticed how he stood with his legs apart, shifting his weight as rode waves while his upper body flexed to hold the wheel in place. 

‘Get up here,’ he bellowed. 

Her short journey onto the bridge was stumbled. But once she made it up, Hook relinquished his hold on the wheel to grab her. His stormy eyes met hers as he dragged her over to the wheel. 

‘You need to be careful Princess,’ he said taking his hold on the wheel again. ‘Outrunning this will not be easy. Do as I say without question.’ Emma nodded. ‘Take the wheel with me, we need to hold her steady while all but the main sail is hauled up.’

He directs her to take the handle next on his left, then two to his right. ‘Spread your legs a little wider, it will help with the balance,’ he directed, ‘then brace against wheel.’

She nodded her head, determined to see this through, and surprised at the evident trust he has just put in her. As the night wares on the storm, which he remarks is more a damnation, shows little sign of abating. However, Emma soon found herself working in sync with Hook as he gave his commands to help him move the wheel port or starboard. The real test came as the sky began to lighten. 

Over the course of the storm, the waves had reached unimaginable heights. Emma had looked up on more than one occasion to see nothing but a wall of water alongside her. The Captain didn’t seem too concern but then, she assumed, it wouldn’t do for him to show any form of fear. Now, however, fear lingered in the blue depths of Hook’s eyes. 

‘What do we do?’ she asked. 

Hook scanned the wave that was coming in their direction. As he did so, his hand slipped onto the handle she was holding. His fingers were surprisingly warm, and the calloused touch was comforting as she looked at the wall of water off the port side. 

‘We’re going to go over it,’ replied Hook. 

She wanted to question his sanity. But an ‘ok’ escaped her lips. Emma exhaled focusing on task ahead. They had to survive. She had to survive to find a way to warn her mother about the Evil Queen. Warmth pooled in her belly, the back of her spine and the tips of her fingers. She took another great, deep breath and exhaled as she tried to imagine them going over the wave. 

\--//--

Killian was no stranger to magic. However, Emma’s current unconscious use of it as they began their ascent into the wave. His hand remained on hers at the wheel while he called down to David. The magic slowly infused across the enchanted wood of the ship. The Jolly Roger skimmed along the wave, barely tilting as she rose higher and higher.

‘Come on, Swan,’ he muttered under his breath, willing the woman he loved to the surface, ‘you can do this.’

The Jolly Roger crested the wave, landing on the other side into the clear predawn sky. Killian looked behind him, the wave continuing into the storm they had just escaped. Before he had a moment to contemplate what they had just left behind, Emma stumbled back. He spun and caught as she fell into a dead faint. 

‘Emma,’ he said as he lowered her on to the sodden floor, but it was clear she was still breathing from the rise and fall of her chest. 

‘She must have expended her every last piece of energy on getting us out that storm,’ said David, crouching down on the other side of Emma and pressing the back of his hand to her cheek. ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’

‘Like that?’ croaked Killian. ‘Not at all.’ He meant both the magic and the storm. ‘I’ll take her below deck to rest and we’ll see where we are come the evening.’ He looked up at the pink sky. ‘There is no way we’re still on course.’

He lifts the Princess into his arms and carries her down to the Captain’s quarters were Henry has been patiently waiting out the storm. The poor lad looks shattered, but bar for assessing the damage to the ship, there will not be much any of them can do until the next day. 

‘What happened?’ he asked, rushing to the steps from the deck. 

‘Exhaustion,’ Killian replied. ‘She managed to use magic to get us out the storm. I don’t think she even knew what she was doing.’

Henry nodded as he stepped aside to allow Killian to place Emma on the small bed. ‘The Evil Queen made her forget she has magic, but she couldn’t take it away from her.’ He smiled, his young face reassured after months of worry that they would find her but there would be no trace of her. 

Killian had feared the same but never voiced it. He didn’t want to worry Henry, nor did he want to give into the fear he could lose Emma. After everything they had faced together, the Darkness and the Underworld, this curse seemed such a paltry manner in which to lose her. 

Behind him, Henry climbed onto the deck without a further word. Killian turned to watch him leave, his hand resting on Emma’s shoulder. Her clothes were soaked through and he sighed. There was no way he would allow her to sleep in wet clothing but he sensed that the Princess would not be impressed if he stripped her of her clothes. However, he was willing to risk her wrath. 

As he covered her in blankets, now in dry attire, Emma looked peaceful in sleep as if she were still the woman he fell in love with. His thumb stroked her temple and she rolled over. Killian felt the urge that had been brewing in his chest since he had first seen her on the docks of Mournstead; to feel her lips against his. He closed his eyes against the urge. This woman didn’t love him even if his Emma was buried deep inside. 

Yet what could it hurt. With the expulsion of magic she had just created, there might be enough of her at the surface for this to work. Not that he had experienced much success with True Love’s Kiss when it came to Emma. He pressed his lips her brow.

‘I love you,’ he whispered against her headline.

\--//--

She woke in a bundle of warm blankets that smell surprisingly familiar to her groggy head. As she stretched, she became aware that her legs were bare and she was wearing a soft black skirt instead of the night dress. She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest and gazed around. It was immediately clear she wasn’t in her cabin, but if she had to guess, this would be the Captains. Hook’s cabin. The room was surprisingly neat, almost airy and not at all fitting in with her perception of pirates. As her eyes searched the room she found a pile of folded clothes on the table. 

She swung her legs over the bed, clutching the blankets to her chest and walked over to inspect the clothes. It wasn’t a dress but a set of soft subtle leggings with laces down each leg, a soft white shirt with a vest to go over the top and on the floor sat a pair of knee high boots. Emma smiled. When she was younger, she had found similar attire in her mother’s room, a relic of her banditry days and had in part wished for them rather than soft chiffon dresses her mother insisted she wear. 

As she dressed, she caught herself in the mirror. Her hair was messy, tousled from the sea spray that had battered the ship the night before, while her skin had already taken on a dark hue from the exposure to the sun while her jade eyes flickered with something other than boredom. The woman looking back at her was not the coiffured Princess who had left the safety of Misthaven’s palace. Yet she looked familiar. Felt a little more real. 

Emma turned away, taking a deep breath as she walked towards the ladder that would take on her deck. It was quiet but for a few able seamen doing some work. Hook young ward, Henry, sat scribbling on a piece of paper and didn’t look up at her as she emerged. On the deck below Hook and Mr Nolan were looking up at the fore mast with the Captain pointing up at something in the rigging. 

‘It’s no worse than the damage sustained in Neverland,’ he explained as Emma drew close. 

‘Only this time we don’t have Regina to fix it,’ replied Mr Nolan. 

Hook tilted his head towards Mr Nolan and raised an eyebrow. ‘While her help ensured we were on our way much sooner, fixing this isn’t beyond our abilities when we make port, granted it will take longer. Just as soon as I know which port is closest we’ll make haste there.’

‘Then we’re lost?’ Emma asked, cutting across the conversation. 

Both men turned to look at her, their eyes sweeping over her attire then exchanging a glance before Mr Nolan excused himself by saying he would check on Henry. Emma watched the first mate go, climbing up the steps to the bridge. She turned to face Hook. His eyes flickered over him, a hint of puzzlement, and perhaps disappointment as he rested his handless wrist on the hilt of his cutlass. She noted he wasn’t wearing the long leather coat she had previously though might have been an extension of his body. 

‘So we’re lost?’ she repeated. 

‘Not lost, love,’ Hook replied. ‘I have a fair idea but after last night’s storm I plan to fully confirm it with the night sky.’

She nodded, but didn’t feel wholly convinced by his explanation. She dug her thumbs into belt of the tunic and rocked back onto her heels. ‘How did you learn how to sail?’ she asked. 

Hook raised his eyebrow at her but walked passed her without answering. Her gaze followed him before following a couple of steps behind until they were on the bridge. Henry was gone but the hatch to the Captain’s cabin was left slightly open. 

‘Well?’ she probed as Hook took the wheel. 

Emma took a place beside the housing, but as she did so, she noticed something. Scratched out markings of port and starboard. She looked down at them, head tilted to one side in contemplation before her hand came up and traced the markings. They were old, but the groves still cut into her index finger. 

‘What are these?’

She looked up expecting to see the Captain meeting her eyes in some sort of defiant manner, but he too was gazing at the markings. His eyes were such a dark shade of indigo that they almost looked purple. 

‘A reminder,’ he said softly. ‘Someone I care very deeply for told me I could be part of something greater than myself. In a moment of weakness, and defiance, I scratched this out as I told myself otherwise. I was proved wrong.’

‘Where is this someone?’ she asked. 

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing deeply, before his spoke. ‘Gone,’ he said, his fingers clenching the handles of the wheel. 

The irrevocable sense of loss in him was tangible. It was the same sort of loss she felt; as if she had just missed something that existed beyond her reach. Her free hand came up from her said and grabbed his forearm. Their eyes met, something immutable settled in her stomach as she exhaled.


	5. Just Another Port after a Storm

Jarren’s Outpost, like Mournstead, was a town that ruled it self and didn’t recognise any monarchy. Respect was earnt by trade and reputation. While David was a Prince in this Realm, so far as the Realm remembered, he was a dead one thus they had to rely on Killian’s centuries old reputation. With the news spreading through the town he had sunk the Queen Anne’s Revenge, thus ridding himself of another contender, was enough to make the crowds part for him as he walked to his destination with David. 

However, they were on dangerous ground. Killian’s treatment and respect for Emma coupled with the fact he still had Black Beard in the brig for a rainy day had been noted by the crew. It didn’t fit in with his usual habit, or at least the habit that rendered him a legend amongst pirating crews in this world. Word would soon be out and he was not of the mind to defend his reputation with Princess Emma in such close proximity. 

‘We’re going to have to ditch the crew here,’ Killian said to David as they wound their way from the docks into the streets of Jarren’s Outpost. ‘We can’t risk them revealing we have the Princess on board, or we still have Black Beard.’

It was dark in the streets with houses overhanging their original outer walls. On most corners, women of trade attempted to gain their interest however, both men walk past without showing any interest. They wouldn’t even been in this part of the town were it not for the Oracle who inhabited one of the hovels in the depths of this winding maze of houses. 

‘What do you intend to do with him?’ David asked. 

Killian raised his eyebrow. ‘Well, there isn’t much choice in the matter,’ he replied. ‘Once we’ve had the opportunity to speak with him, it’s either us or him who’s going to end up in deep water.’ He looked at the disgruntled prince beside him. ‘I warned you this would be hard for you to swallow, your highness. We have to stick to the code or we’ll have every pirate coming down on us thinking we’re an easy target.’ He glanced around the houses. ‘Right, be on your guard. The Oracle might be a mouth piece of the Olympians, but if she favoured Hades…’

‘Right,’ replied David slowly, adjusting his sword into place rather than letting hang at his side. ‘Why are we going there again, if that’s the case.’

Killian pulled a cork stopped bottle from his coat. In it was water and the torn remains of a sail. David looked at it with some surprise as Killian sighed heavily. 

‘It was a cursed storm,’ explained Killian, ‘and while it pains me to quote the Crocodile, magic may well be able to change forms, but it can never be truly destroyed. That storm was aimed at us. Were it not for Emma, we’d be introducing ourselves to Davy Jones himself.’

‘Davy Jones is real?’ asked David. 

‘I don’t know, mate’ replied Killian, biting out his words with a bit of frustration now, ‘but given just about everyone else is real, even those we thought were stories, I wouldn’t bet against it.’

David raised his eyebrows before chuckling. ‘Finally, something even you wouldn’t bet against.’

\--//--

While Emma was initially irked by Hook’s demand she remain on the ship with Henry, she found herself enjoying the company of the upbeat young boy who seemed to look up to the Captain with a great deal of affection. She learnt Hook had been married to his mother and Hook had promised to care for him should anything happen to her. However, the young boy was not keen to divulge the circumstances of the loss of his mother beyond a mumbled ‘there was a curse.’

She couldn’t help but think this wasn’t the sort of life for someone barely out of childhood but life dealt strange hands sometimes. Besides, he seemed reasonably well cared for between Hook and Mr Nolan, so who was she to judge. She who to the chagrin of her mother had neither married nor produced offspring. She whiled away so of the time looking around the deck. Whenever she had travelled by ship with her mother, she had been cloistered away in the luxurious suite or seated in a chair on the bridge while others worked. 

Her hands went to the wheel. Handling the ship with Hook had been magnificent. She still didn’t understand why he had put his trust in her as the storm waged down on them. He had just said after, rather enigmatically, that it had been the right thing to do. 

‘Well, it seems the Princess fancies herself a pirate,’ Hook’s voice rung out from the deck below. 

Emma jumped, skittering back from the wheel as Hook walked up to the bridge. Behind him, Mr Nolan shook his head in utter exasperation while Henry smirked as if the three of them were sharing some private joke. Emma drew herself to her full height, not wanting to be cowed but more than aware of the blush creeping on her cheeks as the pirate walked over. 

‘Was your foray successful?’ she asked with a touch of haughtiness to disguise the acute embarrassment she felt creeping on her cheeks in the form of a blush. 

‘If you consider dodging fireballs from an angry oracle because she thinks you were responsible for killing her God, then absolutely,’ said Mr Nolan in a dour voice, glancing at Killian. 

Emma looked at him too, thunderstruck because no mere mortal could surely be responsible for such an act. However, there was something lingering in his eyes, a brightness she couldn’t place. It didn’t make sense. If she was honest, none of this made sense. 

‘You killed a God?’ Emma asked. 

Killian looked up. ‘Not directly, love,’ he replied, before looking away. ‘Mr Nolan, you need to see about repairs to the foremast. Take Henry with you. Lad looks like he could do with some solid land beneath his feet.’ 

Henry smirked as he got to his feet but he got jumped down after Mr Nolan. Emma watched them once they were off the gangplank and on the dockside. Mr Nolan slung his arm over Henry’s shoulders and she noticed just how tall the lad was. The two engaged in companionable conversation as they walked passed all the sailors with ease. 

‘What about me?’ she asked once the other two had disappeared into the crowd. ‘Are you going to keep me on this ship the entire time we’re in port?’

She had to wait for the answer as Hook mulled over charts spread on the housing of the wheel. He seemed perplexed by something, a slight crease between his brows as he flicked through the pages of thin paper the maps were drawn on. She tilted her head to the side then stood on her tip toes to look over his shoulder. The maps were heavily annotated from years of use, but the fading of the ink suggested it had been some years since they had been used. 

‘Is there a problem?’

Hook started, and she had to jump back as he swung around to look at her. ‘That accused storm we barely survived came from the Black Mountains,’ he said, leaning back and resting his elbow on the maps. ‘But they aren’t on the charts.’

‘And you thought they were?’ she asked. ‘How do you know the curse was from the Black Mountains if the Oracle threw a fireball at you.’

Hook shrugged. ‘What can I say, love,’ he said. 

‘You can say how you know.’

He sighed. ‘The Oracle had a flare for over exaggeration. She revealed it before she threw the fireball.’ He turned back to the charts.

‘Who was the storm for?’ Emma asked after a few moments silence. ‘If it was a curse, then it must be for someone.’

‘Why do you ask?’

Emma blinked. ‘My mother, she always told me the Evil Queen fled there after she… well you know…’ she trailed off. ‘And she wants me, so the storm was sent for me.’

‘No, the storm was aimed at me which means my presence in this realm has been noted,’ Hook replied, as he continued to mull over the maps. ‘The Evil Queen doesn’t want to just kill you, Emma, she wants to destroy you.’ He straightened to his full height and turned to her. ‘Killing you in a storm would not give her an ounce of satisfaction.’

Emma felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She stepped back until she had something to grab a hold of. ‘Why?’ she asked in a soft whisper. ‘I’ve done nothing to her.’

He shook his head. ‘That isn’t entirely true,’ he replied. 

‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘I’ve barely left the Ivory Tower, much less met the darkest of villains. You,’ she continued, pointing at him, ‘are the most notorious villain I’ve met.’

‘That I am,’ he said, a bite to his voice, exasperation, ‘but what if I told you what you believe of your life is nothing more than the product of a curse?’

Emma blinked. ‘What?’ she shook her head. ‘No, curses put people to sleep until True Love’s Kiss wakes them, not fill their head with fake memories and force live miserable lives.’

‘Actually,’ said Hook slowly, ‘that is just what the Evil Queen specialises in when she wants to deal out a bit of revenge.’

Emma planted her hands on her hips. ‘Prove it.’


End file.
